As she was never far from _Constantia_, _Don Pedro_ was no sooner gone out of the Closet, but _Agnes_ enter’d; and finding the Princess all pale and languishing in her Chair, she doubted not but there was some sufficient Cause for her Affliction: she put herself in the same Posture the Prince had been in before, and expressing an Inquietude, full of Concern; ‘Madam, _said she_, by all your Goodness, conceal not from me the Cause of your Trouble. Alas, _Agnes_, _reply’d the Princess_, what would you know? And what should I tell you? The Prince, the Prince, my dearest Maid, is in love; the Hand that he gave me, was not a Present of his Heart; and for the Advantage of this Alliance, I must become the Victim of it--What! the Prince in Love! (_reply’d +Agnes+, with an Astonishment mix’d with Indignation_) What Beauty can dispute the Empire over a Heart so much your due? Alas, Madam, all the Respect I owe him, cannot hinder me from murmuring against him. Accuse him of nothing, (_interrupted_ Constantia) he does what he can; and I am more oblig’d to him for desiring to be faithful, than if I possest his real Tenderness. It is not enough to fight, but to overcome; and the Prince does more in the Condition wherein he is, than I ought reasonably to hope for: In fine, he is my Husband, and an agreeable one; to whom nothing is wanting, but what I cannot inspire; that is, a Passion which would have made me but too happy. Ah! Madam, (_cry’d out +Agnes+, transported with her Tenderness for the Princess_) he is a blind and stupid Prince, who knows not the precious Advantages he possesses. He must surely know something, (_reply’d the Princess modestly._) But, Madam, (_reply’d +Agnes+_) Is there any thing, not only in _Portugal_, but in all _Spain_, that can compare with you? And without considering the charming Qualities of your Person, can we enough admire those of your Soul? My dear _Agnes_, (_interrupted +Constantia+, sighing_) she who robs me of my Husband’s Heart, has but too many Charms to plead his Excuse; since it is thou, Child, whom Fortune makes use of, to give me the killing Blow. Yes, _Agnes_, the Prince loves thee; and the Merit I know thou art possest of, puts bounds to my Complaints, without suffering me to have the least Resentment.’